


I Tell It Better

by LittleBuddy



Category: MASH (TV)
Genre: M/M, Multi, ft. BJ’s trademark lies and guest appearances from Daniel Pierce and Peg Hunnicutt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-16 16:55:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29457093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleBuddy/pseuds/LittleBuddy
Summary: In which BJ tears down the intricate falsehoods he constructed to protect himself from the truth. OR - in which the usual shtick of lying doesn't work out so well when you just want to be with the one you love. A(nother) post-war BJ goes to Maine take.
Relationships: B. J. Hunnicutt/Benjamin Franklin "Hawkeye" Pierce
Comments: 11
Kudos: 48





	I Tell It Better

The first few hundred miles exhausted him. Verbally presenting excuses to himself in an otherwise empty car not only made him feel like a madman, but meant that he had to keep the conversation going on his own. Hawkeye had spoiled him with the give-and-take conversations and rapid-fire jokes, and after Korea, BJ and Peg always had plenty to talk about. 

Dissatisfied and unable to justify the behavior that had led to this moment without completely, he’d hurl the excuses out the open car window, letting them catch the passing asphalt for a seventy mile per hour death. At one point, BJ imagined the blacktop stretching all the way back to Mill Valley, littered with the excuses he’d created and discarded during the drive. 

_“Hawkeye called, Peg. He’s…”_

_“I just got a call from Hawk. I need to go.”_

_“Daniel called. He said Hawkeye’s bad..”_

He’d rehearsed the phrase in his head for hours before he said it to Peggy, and still felt like his delivery was off in the moment. He just couldn’t make himself admit outright that he needed Hawkeye, that BJ had to make the trip for himself. Peg hadn’t been phased - _“Of course you’re going. Erin and I will manage.”_ \- which made the lie that much easier - and that much harder - to commit.

Yes, lie. Four hundred and seventy-two miles in, BJ had to agree with himself. There were no excuses, no way to explain it away. He’d lied. That in and of itself wasn’t a surprise - he’d been doing it since he could remember. It kept him safe, first of all, but people liked things better when he lied. Falsities didn’t hurt people as much, or ostracize you from the other boys at recess. They got you a date to prom, and kept the high school girls from turning you down because you were like that. Feelings remained intact. His dad didn’t come after him. It’d become polite, something of a personal etiquette by which he compulsively lived, and it’d only been exacerbated when he was in Korea. He’d found too many new truths there, things that cowered from the light of day. So he’d stuck to the easy stuff, and eventually even he’d been able to find the shit that fell out of his mouth somewhat believable. 

The lies were formulated, subconsciously, on a three-tier level. First came the lies that weren’t even mentioned. Lies of omission, so to speak. When he’d wanted to write Peg about Lieutenant Donovan, but instead wrote to her without mentioning it - that he considered an omission. Not quite a full blown lie. The lines blurred, anyway. Then there were passing lies: words that wouldn’t mean anything to the recipient - _“Whoa, Scotty. Of course I like Aggie. I like her a lot. I also like Hawkeye, steamed clams, and my Aunt Shirley, not necessarily in that order.”_ Scotty hadn’t needed to know the truth - what did it matter that he liked Aggie, loved Hawkeye? He also disliked clams and his aunt’s name was Clara, but that made no difference to the soldier. The biggest lies of all were the ones he perpetrated on the daily: lies of identity. Sure, he was doctor BJ Hunnicutt from California. He had captain’s bars in his footlocker, a favorite color, and a perfect nuclear family dynamic. Hell, he’d even learned to gear his internal meltdowns in a direction that improved his standing as Resident Family Man. But truly, when all was pulled away and the jokes set aside for a moment, he was a man in love with someone just out of reach, suffering a constant nostalgia for something (someone) five feet away while putting on an outrageous show to protect an image that only existed thousands of miles away in Mill Valley. Half truths, denials and outright deceit simmered constantly, just below the surface of his carefully crafted persona, until something turned up the temperature. Then he’d spill over and tell the truth, tell a whole truth - something like _“I’ll miss you… a lot.”_ Something jeopardizing and transparent and altogether too much truth for him to handle. Usually he didn’t think twice about it. Those were truths that would cause or reopen wounds that he couldn’t heal with sutures and treatment plans, so he spoke them and let them go. This one, though, had sunk its teeth into his leg and wasn’t about to let loose.

* * *

According to the clock on the wall of the motel room, BJ had slept three hours exactly. He tried to go back to sleep, but his mind was monologuing at high speed with no end in sight. 

What was so different about this lie? He racked his brain, comparing snapshots of previous lies without finding a satisfactory answer. There hadn’t been a distressed phone call, and there was no desperate situation warranting his immediate departure to Maine. But he’d done it just the same. He needed to see Hawkeye, and could only hope Hawkeye would see him. BJ hadn’t intended to be this frustrated the next time he saw his friend, though.

They’d been able to skate by without acknowledging it for far longer than BJ thought, but it’d been building at a snail's pace ever since he came home. Little things Peg did that she couldn’t help - things that would’ve really catered to the man he’d been before Korea - drove him fucking crazy. He was irritating her too, he knew. The way he stayed up writing letters, stayed generally underfoot at all times trying to connect with her the way they used to - he’d be irritated, too

There was also the sex. Or, better put, the lack thereof. No longer did he want to crawl in bed with her every night, press into her and pass out together. It wasn’t that he didn’t love her, or find her beautiful. She was gorgeous, maybe even more so now than she had been when they’d married. As far as loving her, he’d never love someone the way he loved Peg. They were partners in crime - “for always,” she liked to say. But now he had a Hawkeye-sized space in his heart next to the spot reserved for Peg. She tried to fill both slots, and he tried to let her, but so far…

He had a sneaking suspicion she was picking up on his feelings, but any time he tried to ditch the cover he’d hidden under his whole life, he backed out for fear of having misread her. He’d hate to hurt her, especially if he had nothing concrete to show for it. “Oh yeah, honey, by the way - I’m in love with someone who may not want anything to do with a relationship. Oh, did I mention it’s the man I spent the last couple of years writing home about?” _Right._

A feeling of relief washed over BJ. Maybe it wasn’t so different from other scenarios where he’d abandoned the truth - if lying meant he wouldn’t be causing Peg grief for no reason, then why not? Why not protect her?

BJ closed his eyes and slept until his wake-up call at six. With a cup of weak motel coffee in hand and a to-go bag of what he suspected were yesterday’s donuts, he hit the road, angling the car toward the rising sun.

* * *

For the second time that week, BJ found himself rehearsing what he’d say. He’d imagine Hawkeye opening the door - then BJ’s mind would blank out. He couldn’t get past the opening act, hands gripping the wheel every time he mentally reached the Pierce residence.

Years ago, his college English teacher had instructed the class on plot structure. He’d implored the class to not stop if they got stuck, but to move ahead to something they wanted to write, the one piece that made them excited to write the whole. BJ took this advice and jumped straight to the confrontation. God, what he wouldn’t give to fight with Hawkeye. He wanted to push him against the wall, yell at him for the way he’d made BJ fall in love with him with every single stupid thing he’d done. Let it hurt. Then maybe he’d recognize BJ for once, even if it was through shared pain. 

Next came the sex. Argument, sex, makeup. Roughly in that order, though the last two could be combined if they worked it right. BJ thought about Hawkeye’s hands: calm, performing medical miracles, holding a martini glass. Clutching at BJ’s shirt while they laughed over something ridiculous. Long surgeon’s fingers, holding BJ’s face while they kissed, digging into his hips, moving lower - BJ startled out of his thoughts when an old man in a Buick passed him, making the universal palm-up “what the hell?” hand gesture. BJ waved apologetically and steered the car back into its own lane.

“Sorry! Just… thinkin’ about dick. Sorry.” He shook his head and trained his focus back on the road, leaving thoughts of Hawkeye’s slender form for later.

* * *

BJ pressed the break, coming to a halt at the end of the driveway. How in the world had he ended up here? How could it start with a missing jeep and a _“Can I help?”_ and end with him here, in Maine, knocking Hawkeye’s door down to say _“Hey, remember that cookie in the airport? The one who asked me to run away? Well, I’m projecting. You’re the cookie, and I’m… not kidding.”_

He glanced at the directions on the napkin and the little house drawn near the top. The waitress at the diner in town had drawn it up for him, leaning against the counter and brushing his arm to point out the turn he needed to take. He’d almost felt bad turning down her offer of coffee and a slice of pie - _“sorry, my wife’s waiting in the car.”_ \- and now the pit of uncertainty growing in his chest almost made him turn the car around.

Daniel answered the door.

“Um.. hi.” Suddenly, BJ’s throat felt tighter than his chest. The man gazing out at him in the dim porch light looked ridiculously familiar, offering him an idea how Hawkeye would look in some twenty-ish years. _Not too shabby._

“Dad? Who is it?” Hawkeye appeared, peering over Daniel’s shoulder. “Beej! What - how?”

BJ shrugged. “I, uh - by car?” He didn’t know why seeing Hawkeye took him by such surprise - it was his house, so of course he would be there, and that had been the point - but seeing Hawk simultaneously knocked the air out of BJ and gave him his first real breath in what felt like months.

“Come in! Come in. Dad - meet the man of every woman’s dream, the worst driver in Korea, my ex-tent mate, perpetrator of joke theft and previous owner of the cheesiest mustache I’ve ever seen.” 

“Shaved it just for you.” He’d shaved because it reminded him of Hawkeye, not for Hawkeye’s enjoyment - but, same difference.

“I’m flattered. BJ, Dad. Dad - BJ.”

BJ was pulled into the house, familiar hands on his shoulder, his elbow, leading him by his shirt sleeve. They stopped in the kitchen, where Daniel turned the stove off and pulled plates out of the cabinet. The smell of bacon was overwhelming. BJ’s stomach growled, reminding him that he hadn’t eaten since the donuts that morning.

“We’re eating a late dinner. Hungry?”

“He’s always ready to eat,” Hawkeye said. “All the food goes to his feet before his stomach even starts to fill up.”

“Ha-ha, very funny.”

“So, what’re you doing here? Really? Is everything -” Hawkeye gestured with his hands, a motion that BJ understood and read into. _What's going on? Where’s Peggy?_

“Well, it’s not a long story.” (Was that an omission or a denial? It was a story years in the making. But Hawkeye had been there for most of it.. surely he knew how it went?) “I just… I needed to get away for a little bit.” BJ shrugged. “Scheduled surgery in a clean OR without bombs dropping around my ears gets kind of..” _There are no drinks after, no talking until we pass out, no Hawkeye in my tent to return to after a shift in post-op._ “It made me kinda stir-crazy, I guess.”

Hawkeye laughed. “Uh-huh. So you drove thirty-five hundred miles for a little adventure?”

“Yep.” It was a bad excuse and BJ knew it, knew Hawkeye didn’t buy it, and looked away from the questioning look thrown his way, reaching instead for the plate Daniel held out for him. The yellow-orchid design was nearly covered with pancakes and greasy bacon. “Sorry it’s last minute and kinda sprung on you-”

“You were there for my son when I couldn’t be.” The elder Pierce met his eyes briefly, sincerity written plainly across his wrinkled features. “My door will always be open to you.”

At a loss for words, BJ nodded, an unspoken exchange passing between the two of them. 

The group settled in the living room, conversation flowing easily with Daniel to mediate. BJ felt a pang of disappointment when Hawkeye chose to sit across from him instead of next to him on the sofa, but he didn’t think anything of it - until Hawk brought beer from the kitchen, setting BJ’s down in front of him instead of handing it to him. A little later, they moved to the table to look through an old flip-book of photographs Daniel had of Hawkeye’s childhood. Hawkeye stood to the side, a full body of space between him and BJ.

_What’s with that?_ For someone who’d been so unaware of personal space in Korea, Hawkeye was certainly keeping his to himself. He continued the rest of the evening, and by the time Daniel retired, BJ was thoroughly aggravated by it. 

“Well, I, uh. Think I should turn in, too.”

Hawkeye’s brow furrowed. “What? You’ve been here five minutes and you’re ready to check out on me? What is this?”

“A conversational cum-and-go?”

Hawkeye narrowed his eyes. BJ could see him mentally debate whether or not that had been a come-on or a regular joke. What did it matter? They were all the same when it came to Hawkeye. BJ was always just kidding. Unless...

“No post-conversational bliss?”

“We have time.”

“Do we?”

“Speaking of time…” BJ tilted his head in the direction of the clock on the mantle. Hawkeye looked like he had more to say, but to BJ’s relief, he just nodded. Hawkeye led him down the hall, showed him the bathroom - “this is mine, Dad’s got his own,” - and the bedroom BJ would stay in. 

“I’m just down the hall, first door on the left.” Hawkeye paused outside BJ’s door, hovering in the doorway. “You should come sit on my bed. We could have a pillow fight. Paint each other’s nails, you know, what all girls do at sleepovers.”

BJ smirked. “You’d love that, I’m sure.”

“You have no idea!”

Hawkeye stood there, shifting his weight back and forth. His pajama pants hung cockeyed off his hips, a strip of pale skin exposed between his underwear and tee shirt. BJ wanted to kiss him right then and there, pull him into the room and - 

“Goodnight, Hawkeye.” He thought that Hawkeye wouldn’t take the hint, but he nodded after a beat.

“Night, Beej.” Hawkeye left. BJ closed the door behind him, effectively shutting himself in the room with the elephant they’d been passing back and forth all evening. It wasn't that he didn't want to talk about..things, but - after the evening going the way it had with Hawkeye giving him a wide berth, he just had to think. Alone, without the distraction of the dark haired surgeon to throw him off. After the sounds of Hawkeye using the bathroom faded, BJ waited a few minutes to be sure the coast was clear, and went to the bathroom.

After relieving himself, he stood at the sink and scrubbed his face with cupped handfuls of water. Hawkeye’s toothbrush stood in a cup on the edge of the sink, bristles still wet. BJ studied it, thinking about Hawkeye brushing his teeth every morning in the swamp, the way it annoyed the hell out of him -

Five minutes later, BJ rinsed and replaced the toothbrush, clicked his tongue against his teeth, and went to bed.

* * *

Hawkeye was already up when BJ rose the next morning. He motioned at a mug of coffee on the counter.

“Heard you getting up.”

The tentative sip BJ took burnt the tip of his tongue. He cradled the cup in his hands just to feel the searing warmth against his palms took a seat across from Hawkeye.

“Dad’s gone - it’s his and Al Beck’s fishing weekend. He said you’re not allowed to leave until he gets back.”

BJ didn’t say anything, juggling words in his head. Hawkeye spoke first.

“I’m glad you’re here, Beej.”

“Are you?” After laying in bed for an hour trying to determine how to approach the subject, those were not the words BJ had thought he’d start with, but hey - he had to start somewhere.

Hawkeye met his eyes. “Of course I am. What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well, you have to admit, you’re acting a little off.”

“Off?”

“Sure. You wouldn’t get anywhere near me last night.”

There was a pause. Hawkeye tilted his head. “Did you want me to?”

“What’s that matter?” BJ could feel his heart beating in his fingers. If he were to tell the truth, it mattered a lot. He wanted Hawkeye to touch him, to sidle up beside him and brush together at the shoulders, knees, slot himself in against BJ and stay. 

“Well, if you want to talk about being off, I feel like we should start with how you drove to Maine without any warning - and I noticed you’re not wearing your wedding ring.”

BJ glanced down at his empty ring finger.

“I just took it off to drive. Hours of gripping the steering wheel made it a little uncomfy, Hawk.” The fact that the gold band sat in a small box on his bookcase in Mill Valley was, well, another story. A different story.

“So you and Peg aren’t having issues?” 

“Don’t be stupid.” Deflection. Not a lie. They weren’t having issues. They also weren’t not. Okay. Maybe a couple issues, but they’re all on BJ’s end, so to include Peg -

Hawkeye guffawed. “You drove all the way here just to call me stupid?”

“So that’s what this is about? You’re worried about my marriage?”

“Should I be? You have to admit, Beej, you just showed up on my doorstep with no warning, no wedding ring, and you’re upset that I wouldn’t touch you last night.” The implications behind Hawkeye’s words made BJ flush, heat creeping up his neck.

“I didn’t say that!” BJ set his cup down on the table, pushing his chair back as he stood up. “I just meant… I mean, I had expected…” He didn’t know what he’d expected. What had he been thinking? That Hawkeye would just let him waltz back into his life? Resume their velcro relationship like nothing had happened? Why he’s expected the truth to come easily after suppressing it for so long, he couldn’t say.

“Why’d you really come up here?”

BJ turned to Hawkeye, a flash of anger running through his system. “I thought you might actually want to see me, that’s all.” He shrugged. “Guess I thought I mattered more than I do.”

Hawkeye stood up from the table then. “You matter, Beej.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Sure could’ve fooled me.” The anger that had driven him to Maine resurfaced, reminding him of all the times Hawk had done one thing but said another, unknowingly building and then dashing BJ’s hopes into a billion pieces. 

“Oh, fooling?” Hawkeye’s voice had an edge to it, a rise at the end of the sentence BJ recognized as anger. Hawkeye was mad, now, eyes flashing. “You want to talk about fooling? You’d know all about that. You’re the King of Fooling.”

“The hell’s that mean?” 

Hawkeye ignored the question, words picking up speed. “You know, I thought we really had something over there. Everything we did together - I’ve never been so close to anyone, ever! We were attached so tightly we could’ve put the Tocci Twins out of a job.”

“Yeah, I thought so, too.”

“No, no -” Hawkeye shook his head, “I don’t think you thought at all. With all that - everything we shared - you still looked to others. Donovan, Aggie - never me.” When BJ didn’t respond, Hawkeye continued. “Stunned? Shocked?”

“A little,” BJ admitted. He’d thought Hawkeye had been clear - no married women, ever. Why would BJ have been any different?

“I’m not, considering how oblivious you’ve proved you can be. And all of a sudden you waltz in here and ask me to forget that?”

BJ shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose and squeezing his eyes shut. The rest he’d felt five minutes ago had gone. “What was I supposed to do, Hawk?”

“Me!”

Silence fell over the kitchen. Hawkeye covered his eyes with his hands, palms pressing into his face. His voice was muffled when he spoke. “If you had to fall, I wanted it to be me. And you.. Just.. never saw me.”

The impact of Hawkeye’s words almost bowled BJ over. 

“Are you - you’re shitting me, right?”

Hawkeye’s hands fell and he looked up, startled by the anger in BJ’s voice.

“Tell me you’re joking.”

Hawkeye feigned surprise, taken aback. “Who, me? I never joke.”

“All I ever saw was you!” BJ threw his hands up. “Everything was about you. Donovan was about you. _Not_ being with Aggie was about you. Sleeping, eating, joking, fighting - jesus! It was all you.”

“Ah, so I caused all those things to happen? Me?”

“Mmm…” BJ stroked his chin, mock thinking. “Yep. It’s just all about you, isn’t it?”

“Now, wait a minute. That started out sounding promising and ended as an insult. Which one is it?”

“Take your pick.” It was almost insulting - he’d never felt like he was so honest about his devotion to anyone the way he had been with Hawkeye, and yet it had gone unrecognized. Hawkeye still thought he’d turned Aggie down because of Peg.

“Okay.” Hawk shrugged. His body sagged, all the fight going out at once, the facade he’d been wearing breaking all at once. For the first time since he’d arrived, BJ noticed the exhaustion that outlined Hawkeye’s face. “I pick you.”

“Just like that?” BJ said, his mind screaming _yes yes, please pick me, over and over and over and-_

“We’ve been picking each other for a long time, BJ. Every time I needed someone, you were there. And did I ever turn you away?”

“No, but-”

“Just because we never put that in sexual terms doesn’t mean it didn’t matter. Right?” Hawkeye’s voice had lowered to a mumble. BJ’s heart sank with the question, realizing what Hawkeye was asking. Some of the anger went out of him, and BJ took a deep breath before replying.

“I didn’t mean that, Hawk. Of course it mattered. It was… more than enough.” Standing shoulder to shoulder, sharing the mirror while they shaved, reading to each other after dinner. The ability to sit with each other’s grief and fear and not be afraid of being vulnerable. He’d never been so in tune with anyone before, never felt that comfortable in someone else’s space. “Our friendship - our relationship - meant more to me that way than it could’ve if we’d have had.. other things.” He couldn’t bring himself to say the word _sex_ , suddenly feeling like he had back in high school: too tall for his age, emotionally gangly and physically awkward, and totally aware of it. Hawkeye made it all feel new again, like he was experiencing the butterflies in his stomach for the first time.

“Then what’s changed?”

“Me,” BJ said. His chest was cracking open, emotions he’d kept hidden bubbling over with alarming speed. Truths were pouring out faster than he could pull them back in. He couldn’t have stopped them even if he’d wanted to. “I’m not the same person. Not to Peg, not to you - not even to me. Everything was different. I would’ve felt like I was taking advantage of you, Hawkeye. I had a wife and a kid and a life I’d have to return to, and you couldn’t come with me. We both knew it.”

“So Peg-”

“She knows,” he said. Well, that wasn’t quite true - “That I’m here.”

“Propositioning me?”

“Mm…” he left that one alone. An omission, maybe. Peg was smart, smarter than he would ever imagine being - so empathetic, well read, enigmatic and - well, there was no way she didn’t know. “Am I?”

“Are you?”

“I sure as hell hope so,” Hawkeye said. “Otherwise I’m getting worked up for nothing.”

BJ nodded. “Okay then, I am.”

Hawkeye crashed into him with enough force that they tumbled backward together, knocking magnets off the refrigerator. BJ forgot how to move, how to breathe, the fact that Hawkeye was kissing him sinking into him like a leaf on quicksand.

“Hey…” Hawkeye pulled away, meeting his eyes. “Don’t plotz out on me here.”

Feeling returned to BJ in a flood, the sensation of Hawkeye’s fingertips on his forearm burned into his memory permanently. He wasted no time leaning into Hawkeye, teeth meeting with an awkward clack that made him grin into the kiss. Hawkeye’s lips were soft, and BJ could taste hints of maple syrup and coffee. He nipped Hawkeye’s lower lip, earning a moan that shot straight to his groin, and then followed it up with another kiss and another and - then Hawkeye pulled away and BJ felt like he’d been pushed off a cliff, air rushing by him as he fell, weightless. Wanting.

“I want you. All of you, BJ.” The muscle on the side of Hawkeye’s jaw flexed. “Please.”

“Hawk…” thoughts raced through BJ’s head, repercussions and explanations, but not a single lie. “Do you know what you’re doing?”

“You, hopefully.” 

BJ laughed, leaning into Hawkeye like he’d done a million times before. “I mean it, Hawkeye. I don’t want you to hate yourself because of me, you know, because I’m married, or -”

“Beej.” Hawkeye squeezed BJ’s forearm. “The last thing you do is make me feel bad. This…” He shook his head. “I never wanted you to do something you’d regret based solely on circumstances. If you reached for someone because you missed Peg - well, it wouldn’t be genuine.”

“I know. That’s why it was a nurse instead of you,” BJ said. Something in Hawkeye’s eyes shifted, and BJ felt it in his gut. _I’m sorry for that._

“So…” Hawkeye gestured vaguely. “Now we’ve performed a verbal thesis on mutual longing and desire…” He reached down to rub BJ’s cock through the thin fabric of his pajama pants. “Could we make do a little physical demonstration?”

Somehow, they found the way to Hawkeye’s bedroom, discarding clothes along the way. 

“Agree to love me madly?”

“Okay, Kerouac.” BJ pressed Hawkeye into the mattress with an urgency he hadn’t felt since his twenties. Hawkeye ground his hips upward, rutting against BJ.

“Oh, Je-sus..”

“Nope. Just me.”

BJ let his head fall to Hawkeye’s bare shoulder, taking shelter in the space where his neck and collar bone met. Hawkeye lazily ran his fingers through the hair at the nape of BJ’s neck. 

“You sure you want this?”

BJ didn’t hesitate. “I think I’ve wanted this my entire life.” He didn’t know _how_ it could be true, but he knew without a doubt that it was. Maybe he’d always been waiting for something that felt like what he had with Hawkeye - maybe his life hadn’t started until he arrived at the Kimpo airport. Either way, it’s the furthest thing from a lie he could think of. BJ felt Hawkeye nod.

“You can have it, Beej. Have me. Just… don’t leave, okay?”

BJ pushed up on his elbow. “Never.” 

So it was morning and then it was evening, and they hadn’t left the bed, neither willing to stop exploring the other, making promises of flesh and blood that could never be undone. If each sigh was a confession and each kiss a truth, BJ never wanted time to tell another lie as long as he lived.

* * *

When he’d called her, he’d expected questions, like, how’s he doing? Is everything okay? What he hadn’t expected was for Peg to answer the phone, and with no greeting, demand “Well?”

“‘Well’ what?” BJ asked, dumbfounded. Hawkeye shot him a quizzically cocked eyebrow from where he sat, perched on the desk.

In the background, BJ could hear Peg telling Erin to go play. 

“Don’t ‘Well what?’ me, BJ Hunnicutt. Did the two of you work things out?”

“Um…”

“Did you have sex?”

BJ spluttered, mouth falling open. Normally, this was where he’d cleverly insert a lie, sidestep the question, and never look back. But he was only human, and now he’d looked back long enough to know what the burning city looked like. He’d been warmed by the flames, and he wasn’t about to take a step back from it. His hesitancy seemed to speak for him - Peg’s triumphant laugh was loud enough that even Hawkeye glanced up.

“You did!”

“We did?” He was still surprised about it himself, holding this new dynamic tentatively in his hands like water he was afraid to spill. 

“You did. I can tell.”

“I’m that predictable, huh?” So he’d been right.

“You rarely tell the truth about the most important things, Beej.”

He laughed. He’d been outed, but it didn’t matter, not now and maybe not ever. “Yeah. You’re okay?”

“Better than okay. I guess we have a lot to talk about.” BJ could practically hear her smirk through the phone.

“I guess so,” he agreed. “Peg - I love you.”

Hawkeye smiled softly at BJ. 

“I love you too, BJ. Hey - are you going to bring him back with you?”

BJ paused. He hadn’t considered it - the thought was there, of course, had been since Korea - but he hadn’t thought past more than the immediate moment for the last twenty four hours. 

“Beej?”

“Yeah, I’m here. Hold on.” He pulled the receiver away from his face. “Do you want to come back to California with me? Peg wants to know.”

“Taking me home to meet the folks? Already?”

“Tell him we’re his folks, too,” Peg said. BJ relayed the information to Hawkeye, who nodded. 

“Okay. Yeah. I’d like that.”

BJ brought the receiver back to his mouth. “Yeah, Peg, I’m bringing him home.”

**Author's Note:**

> LOL I know I said I'd do another Piercentyre fic soon but.. gotcha! Back on this bs :))) Leave a comment if you feel like it/tell me your favorite lie told by our resident whopper-teller.  
> p.s. you can also hop on over and find me on tumblr @swampdoctors.


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